New Year's Eve
by onereeler
Summary: Sherlock and John get stuck in the countryside on a cold New Year's Eve. The two of them start fighting and decide to make it home separately. Johnlock.
1. Night Time Navigation

_**Chapter one: Night Time Navigation**_

"I can't believe we missed the bloody bus. The only bus there is and we missed the damn thing! You know it's going to be freezing tonight, don't you?"

John was severely pissed off. Sherlock had dragged him out on a wild goose chase across the countryside on New Year's Eve. He could've been home watching telly with Mrs. Hudson or having a beer and celebrating with Lestrade and Mike Stamford. Instead he was forced to join Sherlocks ridiculous pursuit. Sherlock had no problems. He didn't mind the cold, it helped him think. If the man they were after hadn't been picked up by that black van they would've caught him. There were only two ways this was going to end. Either Sherlock would figure out where they went and head after them, or Lestrade would find the man. Maybe Scotland Yards' incompetence would be lifted just long enough to catch him. He was vaguely aware John lagged behind. Sherlock knew John was looking forward to a nice night off but then there was the opportunity of the exciting game that unravelled in the last couple of days. How could he refuse. After all, he wanted it as much as Sherlock himself did.

"There really is no use talking to you right now is there. Do you even know where we're going, because we are in the middle of nowhere, no light to be seen anywhere."

The only sounds were their shoes hitting the frozen grass. Every step they took caused the grass to look dishevelled, the untouched grass looking more pristine than before. John sighed, he was really getting angry with Sherlock now. If only he'd pay some attention to his only friend, then maybe, just maybe, he would actually have a friend left by the time they got home. If they ever made it home, that is. John leaped forward and pulled Sherlocks arm to make the man face him.

"What, John! I'm thinking. I know exactly where we're going and that is north-north-east, navigating by using that bright little sparkle in the sky called a northstar. And you John, should've known that since you had to learn night time navigation skills as part of your army training. So next time you pull me out of my mind palace make sure you have something valuable to say!"

Sherlock didn't mean to be so harsh but he was THIS close to cracking the location of the suspect but now that John pulled him out of his own mind he needed to retrace the steps again.

"You know what, you're a twat Sherlock. Have fun walking home by yourself. I'm done."

John was livid and he knew that he would punch Sherlock if he didn't calm down. He turned on the spot and walked back to a fallen tree that would make do as a resting place for the time being.

Sherlock didn't fully understand what just happened. He fell out at John, but he knew better than to disturb him when he was in his mind palace. Lives usually depended on it. Why was it such a problem now all of a sudden? Surely it wasn't the cold. Sherlock kept walking away from John. In his mind he went over how John had acted before they went out. First happy, content even? Then slightly annoyed at having to go outside. But John loved a good chase so that wasn't what set him off. The suspect got away and then it all seemed to spiral out of control. The limp that plagued the doctor from time to time wasn't anywhere to be found all day, but that had been indoors. Did his leg act up in the cold? Sherlock wasn't sure and made a mental note to check that later. But John couldn't have been cold in that ridiculously large parka. What else was he wearing then? His old jeans, sturdy shoes. No problem there. A long sleeved shirt under one of his trademark brown knitted jumper and his black leather patch jacket.

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed as he finally realised. He turned around and ran back to John as fast as he could.

All John needed was to rest his leg for a bit longer. He shivered involuntarily as he fought the cold. The jacket he was wearing didn't keep him warm on this cold night. He stretched his leg while his teeth chattered. Unable to relax he fidgeted with the bark of the fallen tree. Slowly, he seemed to relax. In all actuality, his limbs just got too stiff to fidget any longer. His face was drained of colour but the anger he felt for Sherlock still roared inside him.

When Sherlock finally made it back to the tree he saw his friend sitting on the forest floor against the tree. His lips were utterly blue and he was dangerously rigid. Still, when John lifted his head towards Sherlock he could see he hadn't calmed down.

"Are you too stubborn to move or are you planning on freezing to death?"

"Suicide is your expertise not mine."

John spat out the words. Sherlock winced ever so slightly. It was still a sore wound. Logical, yet so annoying. He took his long coat off and walked up to John.

"What the hell are you doing you'll freeze your head off."

"As opposed to what you are doing now?"

Sherlock draped John in his coat. Sherlock kneeled down and straddled the smaller man. He opened the black leather patched jacket and settled in, pulling his own coat around them both. John didn't even bother to put up a fight. Sherlock tried to call Lestrade a couple of times but he didn't answer his phone. He knew John needed to get out of the cold as soon as possible. Sharing body heat would not be enough. Slowly, John started to shiver again. At least that was a good sign.

"If my arms s-start work-king again-n, I'll p-p-unch you in the face for dragging me out here tnight."

"Nonsense John! You'll be fine."

A glimpse of doubt sprang across his face. Thankful John couldn't have caught that he stood up. Sherlock helped John sit up on top of the rough tree and started shivering too.

"Sh-Sherlock. Take. Coat. Take your c-coat."

Sherlock felt his phone buzz. The display said it was Mycroft. He really didn't feel like talking to his brother but he needed to get John away from here. Back home where it was warm and safe. Sherlock answered Mycroft and spoke quickly. Mycroft send a car over. All he needed to do was get John to the road. Which was close enough but would certainly be a strain.

"Let's just hope Mycroft send out a competent driver this time."

John needed to be out of the cold night air as soon as possible. Back home, where it was warm and safe. Sherlock took John's pulse.

"You're doing much better already."

He was worried but put up a smile anyway. John knew he needed to get warm, he pulled Sherlock closer until he could easily wrap his arms around him. Sherlock adjusted his coat along the doctors' shoulders. It had slipped off slightly. He was getting rather cold himself by now. He knew the roles would reverse if he didn't stay warm himself. He put his arms around John and for a couple of minutes, they stood in this slightly awkward embrace in silence.

John knew the car would arrive soon. He wasn't warm and he knew that his limp would get the better of him when they started walking again but they had to go. He rather enjoyed having Sherlock so close and didn't want to end the embrace just yet. He lifted his head and watched the stars for a bit. It was a beautiful night, had it not been so bloody cold! Reluctantly he unlocked his arms from Sherlock's waist. The longer man seemed to have been dozing off, probably sunken back into his mind palace, hardly aware of his surroundings. John stood up a little wobbly. He pulled Sherlock's coat off his own shoulders and draped it around the tall man.

"Come on genius, let's get home, okay?"

Sherlock didn't say anything. The two of them started walking in the direction of the road again. John with his limp, Sherlock supporting his weight in silence. It was strenuous, John tripped over a branch once and ripped his jeans. Sherlock silently laughed at the doctor's display of colourful vocabulary. After half an hour they finally reached the road. The car should be here any minute now.

"Incompetence, yet again. Mycroft needs new staff!" Sherlock spat out the words. It was the first thing he had said in a while. Worry crossed his face, he was no longer able to compose a cool expression.

"How is the leg? Do you need my coat again, I can do fine without it."

John shook his head, unable to speak through his chattering teeth. A pair of headlights came down the road. Sherlock visibly relaxed again. John would be fine. They would be fine. "Sh-Sherlock?" He turned towards John, a questioning look upon his face. The car stopped in front of them.

"Happy New Year." In the distance fireworks went off as the two men stepped into the warm car, grinning broadly.

* * *

**A/N: The lay-out really bugged me so I updated it. I also fixed a couple of spelling and grammatical errors. A huge thank you to capricorn5 for pointing them out to me and helping me out in general! :) **


	2. Modern Technology

**_Chapter two: Modern Technology_**

_As Sherlock had finally realised the culprit would fled off into the cold countryside..._

No that didn't sound quite right. Suspect, offender, felon maybe?

_As Sherlock had finally realised the hotel manager was guilty, he had already skipped town. We chased him down until we arrived at a battered old cabin in the countryside. Loose feathers lay everywhere along the ground. Carefully we approached the door until we heard a roaring engine coming closer. A black van headed straight towards the cabin and Sherlock and I narrowly escaped a collision. The man we had chased jumped into the ca..._

The old laptop froze. Unable to finish his sentence, John waited. First patiently, then getting quickly annoyed. All day, John had been working on writing up their latest case. The story itself almost too good to be true. A hotel manager had stolen a gem from one of his guests. The man got away and Sherlock hadn't seen that coming. Getting stuck in the freezing cold. Clinging on to Sherlock for dear life as his body needed heat more than anything. Getting up the next morning and realising his whole body ached as he tried to write. And now his bloody laptop decided to turn the corner. He frowned and started drumming absentmindedly on the table top. Sherlock was working on some experiments in the kitchen to keep himself busy, staring down a microscope. He found the drumming overly annoying.

"John?" No response.

John tried hitting the escape button, nothing happened. Space? Backspace? He tried typing some letters to no avail.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" His scream was loud enough for half of London to hear. Sherlock looked up from his microscope. "John?!"

John stood up and paced through the living room. Every few paces he ran back to find his laptop still frozen.

"That bloody thing!"

He looked at the window. He could always throw it out. Of course that would mean all his documents would most certainly be gone forever. Sherlock looked amused at John's expression. He put the kettle on, positive John would need some tea to calm down.

"Right. Work! You useless piece of garbage!"

John let out a frustrated growl. Mrs. Hudson peeked round the corner and asked if everything was okay.

"Does it sound like it's alright! Of course it's not fucking alright!" Despair seeped through John's voice. The night before clearly a strain on his mind as well as his body. He limped towards the bathroom and splashed some water in his face to calm down.

Sherlock had enough of the immature behaviour. He beckoned Mrs. Hudson to go back downstairs. He would handle this. He walked over to John's laptop and closed the laptop, forcing it into sleep mode. If that didn't get the piece of modern technology to work, he would declare it expired.

John came stomping down into the kitchen, slammed down a cup for tea and made himself a cuppa. For once he didn't find the well known routine calming. He took his full cup back into the living room and ignored the table where Sherlock sat behind the broken laptop. Desperate for distraction he switched the TV on. Nothing but reruns of old shows and crap. He decided on Ready Steady Cook but switched it off after only a minute. In the mean time Sherlock resumed his position behind his microscope, huffing every time John muttered a curse at his old laptop.

John forced himself to down his tea as soon as it was no longer scorching. Unable to ignore his laptop any longer he stood up and walked over, flipping it open in one fluent movement. Still frozen up. It hadn't even gone to sleep mode.

"Fuck it. I'm... I'm done. Sherlock? I'm going out!"

Sherlock didn't lift his eyes as he answered. "Where would you go? Everything is closed."

"I'll go visit Lestrade and if he's busy I'll go see if Molly needs an assistant. I don't know. Anywhere but here."

Sherlock felt a sense of dread letting John go out alone but he needed to stay at home. He had his experiment that demanded his attention. And there was a package he had coming in any time now. As the front door slammed, Mrs. Hudson came back up again.

"Woohoo! Oh Sherlock! I thought you were the one that stormed off. Usually I find John back here alone if I hear the door almost coming off its hinges."

Sherlock gave her a small smile as she halfheartedly cleaned the table in the living room. She quickly washed John's cup and peeked into the fridge.

"I'm off to the shop. Just this once I'll bring John some beer and I'll bring you boys some extra milk and biscuits. Anything else dear?" She already knew the answer as she walked down the stairs and out the door.

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. Sherlock leapt down the stairs, yanked the package out of the delivery boy's hands, signed and threw the door in his face. Bounding up the stairs he ripped the paper off the box. A broad grin appeared on his face and he forgot all about his experiment for a moment.

* * *

John was a little upset Lestrade turned him away. It was a busy day for the New Scotland Yard detective but he usually made time for John if he came to visit. John knew he should've stayed home and rest. Maybe check up on Sherlock to see if he hadn't suffered any lasting effects of the previous night but he needed some air. Some exercise even. At least he put on his parka before going out this time.

Molly hugged John and wished him a happy new year. She offered him some tea and cake.

"So how was your evening? Did you do anything fun with Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson? Or did you spend it with someone else?"

John laughed. The sound of spending a 'fun night' with Sherlock sounded ridiculous. Even if he was known to be in good and even companionable moods every now and then. John pictured them playing Trivial Pursuit while Sherlock responded to every question with an "Obviously" and "It must be so boring being in your heads".

"No. Terrible night actually. Sherlock dragged me on a wild goose chase through the countryside, we got stuck and I ended up with hypothermia." A smile lingered on his lips but Molly couldn't think of why it was there.

"Yeah that does sound like something Sherlock would do. I spent last night at home, with my parents. We watched the fireworks on TV but that was it mostly. As you might notice I'm the only one not too hung-over to get into work today."

Molly shrugged and smiled. She looked like she actually had a very pleasant night and John felt a little jealous. Even the thought of him and Sherlock being that close together couldn't make him ignore the pang in his heart. It bugged John to no end that Sherlock would not think of the experience the same way. It was rather nice to cuddle. Even if had only been a biological necessity.

Molly knew John had zoned out and was lost in his thoughts. She left him to them as she started to clean her lab. She hugged John again as they said their goodbyes but didn't ask any questions. She was rather used to Sherlock's behaviour and now that John had lived with him for so long he took over some of his characteristics. This was just one of them.

* * *

John kept replaying last night over and over in his head. There weren't many details left but the thing that stuck to him were the feathers scattered on the grass in front of the cabin. A vivid image hit his thoughts. He pictured how Sherlock would look if he were covered in those soft feathers. John began to laugh while he walked through London. He realised he didn't want to head home just yet. He would go visit the cabin and see if he could find anything that would help solve the case.

He thanked the cab driver and walked up to the door of the cabin. A set of tire marks in the crushed grass was the only indication of the events of the night before. John felt a sense of terror creeping up but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He knocked on the door and picked the lock when he got no answer. Inside he looked around and tried to find things out of order. He had become rather good at finding clues, although he was still no match for Sherlock.

He walked into the kitchen and someone hit him on the head. John doubled over from the impact but quickly spun round and avoided another blow to his head. It was the hotel manager. The man lunged forward but with a swift step to the side from John, he hit nothing but air and nearly fell. John looked round the room in haste and saw a large cookbook on the counter. He ran for it and got kicked against the shins. The man drew a small, but sharp knife and lunged forward again. John managed to fend him off, shoving his knife hand down. A rip formed in his jeans where the knife stuck to the fabric. With his free hand John grabbed the cookbook and hit the hotel manager in the head. The man blacked out and John was glad to be able to call Lestrade. At least this kept his mind off the broken laptop.

While he waited for Greg and his team to turn up, his eye fell on a small glinting stone in a soap basket. Too clear to be soap but it was clearly scuffed. He picked it up and inspected it. It looked like it could be the gem they were looking for but he wasn't too sure. Aren't gems supposed to be polished and shaped like a diamond? John had to admit, hiding it in plain sight was smart. He put the stone in his pocket to have Sherlock look at it later. He heard Detective Inspector Lestrade approaching the front door and felt relieved to get out of the musty cabin.

* * *

John was still in high spirits as he got home. He would change quickly and after he would tell Sherlock all about it. After he put on his pj bottoms he walked into the living room and noticed Sherlock sitting on the backrest of a chair, staring at a package on the table. John was immediately drawn to the package.

"What's that?"

"Open it and you'll see." The hint of a smile darted across Sherlock's face.

A little hesitantly John opened the package. He half expected some kind of animal jumping out at him, or finding a set of human organs. Living with Sherlock made him suspicious of the slightest things.

"What is that?" John knew what was in the package. However, he just couldn't believe what he saw.

"Obviously John, that is a new laptop. And since you're not actually as thick as you're acting right now, you've probably figured this out already. But in case you haven't, it's yours."

"You..." John was stunned. How was Sherlock able to get a new laptop so soon? Anger suddenly struck him.

"Is it your fault my laptop broke down? You are a twat, you know that right?"

"Really John? Is that all you think of me? You called me a twat yesterday as well. Either you have run out of words coming from your quite comprehensive and colourful vocabulary, or you don't mean it. I'm assuming it's the latter since you seemed to be perfectly fine a mere two hours ago."

John couldn't stand the smug grin Sherlock gave him. What the hell was he thinking?! If he had something to make up to John he could also just come clean and tell him what the bloody hell he did to his old laptop! 

He started yelling at Sherlock. Sherlock ignored him for the most part. He knew that John thought he did something wrong and he was trying to set things right. Let him think that. It doesn't matter anyway. John's face became contorted in his anger. He scrunched up his nose and Sherlock had to bite back a giggle. He actually looked cute like his. All taken in by his emotions. He didn't understand why though. If John would think for a moment instead of letting himself get swept away by half-arsed ideas, he would come to the conclusion that his laptop just turned the corner at an unfortunate time. Sherlock had no involvement in the matter.

As John raged on Sherlock merely took in John's face. The way his hair stood up from running his hand through the blonde peaks. The tips of his ears as they turned bright red as well as the blush spreading across his face. His deep blue eyes, such a contrast to his own light coloured ones. The way he used his hands to emphasize the words that Sherlock didn't bother to make out. A sudden urge to get closer to John took hold of him. He stood up from the backrest of the chair.

"Now what, are you walking away from me?! You haven't even said anything. In fact, what DO you have to say for yourself? And don't give me any halfhearted excuses, Sherlock. I just want to know what happened to my laptop and to fix it because I can't take that thing."

John pointed at the new laptop as if it was an abomination.

Sherlock deliberately walked over and he saw John panic a little as he smiled and took John's face in his hands.

"Oh do shut up, would you."

Sherlock pushed his lips firmly against John's. John was taken aback by this turn of events but after mauling over yesterday's memories over and over, this turned out to be a very nice surprise. He didn't resist Sherlock as he tried to adjust his mindset. He leaned into Sherlock and kissed him back, brushing his hand through his hair. The two of them broke up the kiss for a moment and started laughing, still entwined in each others arms. John had completely forgotten all about the case and the stone still in his jeans pocket.

"I'm still not taking that laptop."

"Once again, do shut up" Sherlock said mockingly as he went back to kissing John.


End file.
